True Love Sucks
by Adam Kadmon
Summary: Side story time. But not the good kind of side story.


True Love Sucks

Adam Kadmon

Disclaimer: I do not own Evangelion

Pre-note: this is a side story… but not _that_ kind of side story. The bulk of this was culled from the first draft of the last chapter for True Love Waits, but as I edited it for the hundredth time I realized these parts took away from what I was trying to say. But I liked portions of the filler enough (particularly the Hikari section) that I just couldn't bring myself to delete it all. Thus, this slap dash heap of words.

This takes place roughly after chapter fourteen of True Love Waits. Technically its non-continuity. For an AU. Ha. But it's all for the sake of further ruining my mood. So enjoy. Or suffer. Whichever.

* * *

Another day, another sustained torture session while her genius slowly went stagnant in grade school, another pile of infantile and pathetic love letters declaring an eternal adolescent devotion for the ground she walked on spilling out of her locker and—

"Damn it!" Asuka cried out as she opened her locker, jumping back to avoid the deluge of daily correspondence. The redhead openly growled, crushing the notes under her heel. In the same fluid motion she turned on her classmates to exact revenge, and they scattered like frightened animals.

Asuka sighed as she was left alone, and unceremoniously kicked the pile of letters down the aisle. Let someone else without any self respect deal with them.

"Damn it," she growled as she left the school.

Where was Hikari when she needed her?

Her increasingly scatter-brained friend left as soon as the day ended, citing the absurd excuse of a family meeting. What was this, the nineteen-fifties? And Rei was no help either. Whenever the albino wasn't in her own little world at school, she was at the hospital with her guardian. Something about a car accident. While Asuka detected an undercurrent of deception for the cause of the woman's injuries, she didn't care enough to check and see if it was true. Besides, with the way she drove Asuka believed it enough to leave it alone.

Too bad she survived.

The redhead wasn't in the habit of wishing death upon others, at least not seriously. It was just that Misato had become a very easy target for her unrequited fury. Being an adult trapped in a teenage existence was tough. The fourteen years since her birth were a mere technicality. She knew she was smarter, more mature, better than her "peers" in school. It was simply a matter of fact. And being subjected to the petty and inane world of adolescence was slowly driving her mad.

She wasn't quite as far gone as her mother, keeping an entire room for her ridiculous doll collection, but Asuka felt herself approaching it sometimes. Encroaching insanity can do odd things to a person. She blamed her stint in the school's glee club on that. And her being passed over for their recital's lead solo. Like that Yamagishi book nerd had such a great voice. How dare she steal the spotlight with that ridiculous pop song. Well so what? If her peers would rather rot their ears instead of treasuring the moments of her life Asuka graced them with, they could all just die.

"Stupid children."

For a few months last year she had taken to conversing with high school students to try and sate her trapped maturity. Sure, they were more or less exactly like the teens she met everyday in her own classes, but their age and amazingly focused selfishness gave her enough of an excuse to keep seeing them. And she never questioned why they allowed her to tag along. Any human being was lucky to be near her, especially by her own choice.

That fact was clear in her mind, but not so much in her mother's. A small section of hell had been unleashed when she found out. A shouting match on the topics of teen pregnancy, drug addiction and age appropriate interactions ensued, culminating in a new curfew, a month's grounding, and weekly "reports" to her mother. Which would invariably wind up a shouting match on the topics of teen pregnancy, drug addiction and age appropriate interactions.

Thank God for Hikari. Being friends with a highly respected class representative afforded all sorts of privileges, the least among them getting an over protective parent off her back. Trust by association wasn't the sole reason for Asuka's involvement with the shy brunette, but it was usually the saving grace in times of relationship crisis. It was also usually the one thing that stopped the redhead from ceasing all contact whatsoever when Hikari's other friend was involved.

Asuka groaned.

She didn't hate Rei. Not in the traditional, torturing someone until death sense. But it was so close as to make the distinction trivial. She didn't want her to die or anything, not even in, for example, a fiery collision with a truck that left the albino and her guardian a smoking heap of charred flesh and snotty attitudes, thereby freeing the mouth-wateringly divine Ikari Shinji from an inferior mate. Asuka wasn't that morbid.

There was just something about the pale girl that pushed her buttons. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, apathetically holding her attention above everyone around her. Maybe it was her quiet genius that her instructors loved. Maybe it was that smarmy way she sighed at everything. Maybe it was the fact that God decided to bless her with the daily company of two heavenly angels named Soryu and Ikari and she never once acted grateful for her good fortune.

Or maybe it was because she absolutely despised Rei's guardian.

_Damn that Katsuragi. She better know how lucky she is. Keeping Ikari-san all for herself._

The redhead let herself be carried by a few after-school fantasies involving the young man, and was currently enjoying her favorite, an extended scenario including a candlelit apartment, a bubble bath, and his slim fingers. Strangely enough she always found sex to be more distracting whenever she was feeling pissed.

After a thoroughly mind numbing trip across the city, Asuka reached the high-rise she shared with her mother, taking bets as to whether or not anyone would be waiting for her when she got home. Most likely not. Her mother had been unusually busy lately, but the cause remained obscure to Asuka. Dr. Soryu spoke often to her daughter about work, realizing her intellect and desire for gossip. But recently she'd clammed up. Asuka deduced something was amiss, maybe due to the new computer system she mentioned once.

Her mother was fiercely proud of the JSSDF's operating system, and rightly so. It was a modern marvel, both in scope and design. Computers weren't Asuka's forte, and she readily admitted that. Not to anyone living or who could repeat it, but to herself. Privately. Very late at night, when no one else was awake.

The elevator ride to the eleventh floor was by no means an extended trip, but Asuka was strangely frustrated by the time it took. No one shared the lift with her, so she let her sugary façade relax, but any pleasure she might have felt with the brief respite was lost to her. She tapped her foot as she rode up.

She reached her door, and fumbled for her keys. Another thrilling afternoon of solitude. Even the aspect of having the apartment to herself, filled with many breakable objects to take her frustration out on, didn't sate her. Her hands shook involuntarily and the keys slipped through her fingers.

"God damn it…"

As she was reaching down the door opened, almost on her face, and a man stepped out.

"Oh, excuse me, little lady."

Asuka glanced up, the dawnings of suspicion only starting to form. The man was tall, older, maybe in his thirties, reeking of cheap cologne and barely suppressed sexuality. Like a grown up teenager. She frowned at his scruffy demeanor, and the weightless way he carried himself.

_He's got nothing on Ikari-san,_ she thought, smirking.

"Oh, not at all, sir." She stood. "I'm Asuka. May I ask who you are?"

"Where are my manners?" he said with a laugh. "I'm Kaji. I work with your mother at the JSSDF. I was just over to pick up some reports." The obvious lack of anything in his hands did not bother him in the least. "A pleasure to meet you, Asuka-chan."

"The pleasure is all mine," she replied, smiling through her hate. "So my mother is in?"

Kaji nodded.

"Sure is." He glanced at his bare wrist. "Oh, look at the time. I really better be going." He strode past her, but paused when he was a few feet past. "Asuka-chan… be sure to tell your mother how much you love her, alright? I think she'd like to hear that."

The redhead twisted her face in surprise. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

"I sure will, sir," her sweet voice assured him. "Please have a nice day." The door crashed shut behind her, and Kaji stared out at nothing.

"Cute kid…"

Asuka kicked her shoes off, and flung her book bagdown the front hall. Despite the fact that her mother worked for the government, the Soryu family was well off. It was no small secret that the divorce settlement they received while still in Germany had much to do with their present fiduciary comfort.

"Mama?" Asuka called out, anger seeping into her voice. "Who the hell was the scruffy old guy outside?"

Dr. Soryu strolled out of her bedroom, a diminishing cigarette hanging out of her mouth. Smoke laced the air. Her robe was relaxed on her body, swishing across the floor. Her eyes crawled to her daughter.

"Aren't you out of school early?"

"Shouldn't you be at work?"

Dr. Soryu shrugged. She finished her smoke, and casually ground the butt out in a stray ashtray. Asuka watched with bated rage.

"What the hell is going on?" the teen demanded. "If you're carrying on with some male floozy, fine. But at least give me a straight answer."

"Honestly, Asuka dear. Is that where your mind immediately goes?" Kyoko chuckled softly. "Usually you're so prudish about these things. Ah, but age does change one's perception of reality."

"And which part of that answered my question?"

Dr. Soryu chuckled again, making her way into the partitioned kitchen. She picked up a wide glass sitting on the counter. It was half full with a clear liquid. Lipstick was smudged on the rim.

"My glorious employers don't have much use for me anymore, not with the illustrious Dr. Akagi at their beck and call." She sighed. "It is tragic. But Kaji, or Koji, one or the other… we've been helping each other with our mutual information access problems, and as a fringe benefit I've been helping him with his maleness."

Asuka turned up her nose.

"You're disgusting," she spat out.

"Please, don't be so melodramatic. If you want others to treat you like the adult you claim to be you'll have to get over your silly notions about idealized romance. True love…" Kyoko made a dismissive noise with her nose. "True love dies the instant you really begin to believe in it. Humans are simply too self-involved, too self-important to ever truly allow another into their hearts. The most you can hope for is a few minutes of blissful distraction wearing the guise of affection." She swished her drink. "Alcohol helps immensely."

"I'd forgotten how uplifting your bedtime stories were," Asuka said.

"He's a spy, you know," her mother continued after taking a sip from her glass. "How exotic. But he's a smoker. Nasty habit. It's his fault I started again." She took another sip. "And drinking. That too. His fault."

"I suppose if I want to be treated like an adult," Asuka bit out, grinding her teeth, "I'll have to look for an actual one. Since, you know, there aren't any around here."

"Please, Asuka. I'm the epitome of adulthood. Just not the adulthood you want to believe in."

"Thanks for keeping me grounded in the real world," her daughter spat.

Asuka hurried to her room, slamming the door as hard as Japanese construction allowed. Soon angry German rock was shaking the walls. The neighbors would be complaining soon. Again.

Kyoko smiled wanly, her eyes turning out the window. She raised her glass.

"To parenthood."

* * *

Her sisters and father were waiting for her when Hikari finally came home. Despite her excuse to Asuka that she had to hurry back to her suburban split-level as soon as humanly possible, her feet found themselves taking a decidedly circuitous route home from school. Not that she minded. She wasn't exactly excited about what was awaiting her. She sighed, trying to stay strong, trying to imagine what Asuka would do in her situation. Heck, even what Rei would do.

But fiery temper and extreme stoicism were not familiar parts of her emotional repartee. Inevitably, she found herself afraid and nervous like she usually was, even in non-confrontational circumstances. Not even her happy fantasy of Ikari-san wrapping her in his arms had any affect on her current scattered feelings. If anything, they were exasperating them.

Hikari opened her front door and slid inside, taking an inordinate amount of time to remove her shoes. Eventually her feet were freed, and she was trapped. She walked down the short front hall and found the rest of her beloved family seated around the kitchen table, wearing faces ranging from mild nausea to wicked glee.

"Um, sorry I'm late," Hikari squeaked. Her father gave her a tired frown. Her sisters, even little Nozomi, were wearing sly grins. Of course her sisters had to be here, too. A sudden, harsh swear word crossed her mind as she met Kodama's eyes. This was all her fault, darn it!

"Please take a seat," her father said. Hikari sat opposite him and her sisters, feeling very much like a criminal facing a board of review. In a way, she was. "I'm… certain you know why you're here," the man continued. He hoped his voice betrayed none of the discomfort that was eating his innards alive.

"Yes, sir."

"Well," her father said, heaving a sigh. "Do you have anything to say?"

Hikari bit her lip. It was a well known fact throughout school and her home that she had a way with the written word. Wordsmith, was the term she liked. No one declared otherwise, and good grades coupled with writing contests continually affirmed this reality. It was during one of these periodic reviews of her talents that Hikari had decided to use her skills for a more sinister purpose. Not criminal, simply a little more… human than her past efforts. A decidedly human use. Yes, that was the easiest way to put it.

Fiction was not alien to Hikari. In fact, she enjoyed it quite a bit. Writing and reading. Everything from the classics to the newest release, and her own style reflected her eclectic and wide range of tastes. Indeed, she often took inspiration not only from the books she read, but also the people she interacted with. So when her most recent work, a piece of fiction, integrated her literary talents with her personal life, she thought nothing of it. It was natural. That was what she told herself.

"Who… who is this Ikari person?" her father asked, having waited a long enough time for her to answer.

Ikari Shinji. The fact that he was the star of her newest piece, well, pieces really, was little surprise to her. The additional fact that she was also starring with him, in various manners, in the aforementioned fiction also was, in her own mind, not astonishing. What her words had the two of them doing together, ah, there was the shock. Her susceptibility to romance novels and own unique imagination had culminated in some rather… "blue" pieces. Not open to public viewing, one might say.

Imagine Hikari's surprise when her sister Kodama, in a completely innocent accident, stumbled upon the above described… works… while trying to find an award-winner her younger sister had penned, all for the sake of a classmate of hers. Well, imagine both their surprises. Surprises all around the Horaki household. The decision to turn these interesting exercises into their mutual father was made entirely in the effort to keep honesty the cornerstone of their family. Yes, honesty. A virtue Hikari was currently trying to remember as her father and sisters stared at her, awaiting her answer.

"He's… a friend of Ayanami's," the girl disclosed, ashamed she brought her friend into this. "I mean, he's a friend of her guardian, Katsuragi-san."

"He's… her boyfriend?" Mr. Horaki asked.

"Yes, sir."

"I see…" He sighed. "And you… like him?"

"… yes, sir."

"Has he… ever approached you, like the way you wrote…?"

"N-no! No!" Hikari waved her hands, even as a blush caught her. "No! I swear!"

Her father slumped in his chair. Her sisters frowned in disappointment.

"Oh… okay… good…" He swallowed. "So… all of this…" He gestured to the two full discs of literature before him on the table. "This is all… your imagination…?"

"Y-yes, sir. Nothing… nothing ever happened, I swear."

Another sigh. Another swallow.

"Well… that's… good to know, I suppose. Good to know…" Why was it so damn hot in here? "Well… I hope that… you'll keep your… imagination contained… from now on, Hikari. I…" _Desperately wish your mother was still alive to handle this sort of thing._ "… hope you'll continue to write… just… not about… him…"

"Yes, sir." Hikari glanced up. "Um… can I have them back now?"

"… no…"

"Oh, okay." She balled her fists. "Can I… can I go now?"

"Yes…"

Hikari rushed to her room, not bothering to discover how her sisters had taken it. She shut her door with more force than she meant, and flung herself on her bed. Darn that Kodama! Making her father think she's a pervert! And Nozomi! She's so impressionable. Who knows what she's thinking right now. How was she supposed to face any of them from now on? It wasn't fair!

She longed to tell someone of her current troubles, someone who would understand her position. Could she tell Asuka? That idea seemed the foulest to her. Asuka was so… not perverted about these things. No, she couldn't show them to her. Asuka's harsh blue eyes bore down on her, judging and condemning.

Maybe… Rei? No! That was even worse! What if she told Katsuragi-san, and she told Ikari-san? He can never know! Not ever!

Hikari sighed, face down in her pillow. No one could understand. No one else could know. Maybe her mom would've seen things her way, offering a hug and a sympathetic ear. A far cry from her father's flop-sweats and mumbled words.

_Ugh. _

Them knowing, them finding her only secret, it felt awful. It felt like the end of the world.

"Ikari-san," she groaned into her pillow. "Save me."

* * *

"God I hate school," Touji moaned. "Why do I bother studying if I'm just gonna fail the damn tests anyway?" He ran a hand over his face in an exaggerated gesture of defeat. "God damn algebra. I'm never gonna use it in real life. Hey, you're a hack, right?"

"That's _hacker,_" Kensuke said.

"Right. So… why don't you… ya know, hacker the school and give my grades a massage?" The jock wiggled his eyebrows.

"You're an idiot and you're dishonest," the bespectacled teen replied. "Amazing."

"Naw naw. Nothin big, yo. Just… a little boost, ya know?" Touji sighed dramatically. "Come on, you know everything. Can't you just do it to… I don't know, show you can? I can't pay ya right now, but I could—"

"I'd… really rather not."

Kensuke glanced around his room, oddly unsettled with all the new software and equipment his latest venture had garnered. The boxes were stacked to the ceiling, manuals piled in a precarious heap by his bed. Computer cords snaked across the floor, waiting to bring down the unwary. Touji tripped over an errant disc case, and sat down with a grunt. He looked around him, as if for the first time.

"Uh… you get like, three times more stuff since last week?"

"It's all from a job I took a couple weeks back. My last." Kensuke announced, ending the argument. He surveyed his spoils, picking up an illegal copy of a beta version game not yet even announced to the public. _Well, at least for awhile._

"Come on," Touji said, grades already forgotten. "Fire up the Echo Box. I feel the need to kick your ass in Hell Eater."

"A fighter, again? We always play those."

"Then you shouldn't buy 'em. Come on, I call Thanatos."

"What?" Kensuke asked, outraged. "You're always him. Just because you know his secret thirty-hit killer combo doesn't mean you have to choose him every time."

"Oh, stop bitchin'. And pick somebody besides Hypnos this time. Give me a challenge, why don'tcha?"

Kensuke grumbled something and selected a female fighter whose proportions and costume defied both the laws of physics and good taste.

"And here we go."

The match was over before it began.

"You're so cheap," Kensuke said. "A real player is flexible, able to use many fighters. Not cowardly relying on the same character and combo every time."

"But it looks so freakin' awesome! Look at it! He freakin' _devours_ the other guy! That rocks and you know it."

"Whatever."

The two continued playing, the only sounds in the room the frantic pressing of buttons and computerized screams from the television. At length, even the allure of digitized death and sex paled, and Touji paused in the selection of his next brutalizer.

"Hey," he said, seemingly disinterested. "The class rep was lookin' kinda' down today… you know anything bout it?"

"Huh? Horaki?" Kensuke arched an eyebrow. "I didn't even notice. Uh… why did you pay attention? You scouting her or something? I think you could do better. Now that Soryu… man what a babe."

Touji scoffed, not wanting this to degrade into yet another discussion of the redhead's more salient qualities.

"Nah, it ain't that… I just, I don't know. I thought she looked upset or somethin'. Don't read nothin' into it, yo."

"Whatever. Go after whoever you want. I just think there are better fish in the sea." His eyes longed for his camcorder. "Like Ayanami's guardian. Damn… you remember her? I got her that day she came in for a conference." He let an appreciative whistle out.

"Hell yeah, I 'member her. Goddess quality, that one was. Somebody's gotta' be bonin' her, for sure."

"Naturally." Kensuke twisted his controller, attempting to will his character into a more favorable position. "What was her name? Kitsurabami? Something like that."

"Why don'tcha ask Ayanami about it?" Touji guffawed, elbowing his friend.

"Bite me. I told you she just needed the homework assignment that time so give it a rest, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Touji chuckled. "Nobody talks to that girl. Freak job." He lost the match, tossing his controller behind him. "Fuck it. Hey, go find the footage of her guardian. I know you got it labeled, or somethin'."

"I'm not your slave," Kensuke grumbled, shutting his game console off. "Give me a minute." He made a conscious display of looking for the disc, taking his time to allay suspicion about how organized he really was with his recorders of women. Not that they were alphabetized or anything too strange. Merely color-coded in order of hotness. Kensuke found his Misato disc, an unapologetically hued red.

"Ob-sess-ion," Touji sang out as his friend inserted the CD and had to fast forward through a sizable chunk of Asuka footage.

"Would you rather I tape the class rep, Romeo?"

"Shaddup."

Kensuke easily dodged the punch that sailed his direction and sat back as the recording cleared and a woman with dark lavender hair walked on screen, throwing a devastating smile up to the camera.

"Like a work of art."

"Dude we should like, sell this stuff."

The two boys stopped and looked at one another, and then the male species continued its joyful descent into hell.

* * *

Having a trendy, gas guzzling sports car in a city with an excellent public transportation system and a perpetual flow of walking targets everywhere might not be the smartest idea he ever had, but it was an indulgence. And Kaji felt he deserved to indulge one of his more presentable vices whenever possible. He earned it. Granted it all but ensured he'd be living alone until he sold the damn thing, but on the flip side it did attract any number of potentials for ending that fiscal reality.

Like… there. Right there. That cute little thing by the coffee shop with those devastating boots and the body made for sin. She was sizing him up while he waited on a red light like a piece of meat. Which, given her intent, would have been pounded into six kinds of tender right here and now if not for those ridiculous public decency laws in Tokyo.

Kaji gave her a wicked grin, the one that always got a blush, and sped past her as the light changed.

What was it about pricey cars that women loved? Or rather, what was it about the women who loved pricey cars that he loved? Best not to get too psychological. Not right now.

Especially now.

Another red light halted his trip, and Kaji sighed. He counted the time while digging for a smoke in his pocket. He came up empty, silently cursing Kyoko for stealing his last one.

"Women."

He wasn't quite sure if he was cursing the gender in generalized terms, or his own weakness for them. In particular, military women. Was it his fault he loved a girl in uniform? And out of uniform?

"Women."

The light changed to green and Kaji gunned the engine.

There was something about the car, about the feeling he got when the wind was whipping in his eyes, when the sidewalks were nothing but colorful blurs, when he took a sharp corner and his stomach bottomed out… it was the greatest sense of freedom he had in his life. It was almost like cheating death. Having a car with a seat that practically scraped the asphalt will make you feel like that.

Kaji knew it was silly. He knew also the rumors and gossip behind his back at the base. He was a playboy, a gigolo, a hound, a dog, a… what did that Ibuki girl call him? Ah, yes. Sex fiend. It was all part and parcel of an image he worked very hard on for many years. He presented a face so flippant and trifling that no one would ever dare to scrape the surface.

And the car was undoubtedly part of that image. A part he enjoyed immensely, but a part still. He liked the form, the function, the fact that its sole design was to make men feel good about themselves. It did the trick. Kaji wasn't sure what it was about boys and machines, but he knew this was as close as he'd ever get to being a fighter pilot or manipulating those giant mechas from his childhood. He supposed being a spy was in its own way the fulfillment of some hazy half forgotten dream of youth.

He also liked how quickly the car got him from point A to point B. In his present case, from the murky depths of his personal endeavors to the harsh reality of the military hospital.

It had been at the forefront of his thoughts, his perpetually delayed to-do list, for a few days. He didn't expect anything from his visit. He was serious enough to realize Misato, at the very least, wanted to believe she was changing, that she was moving beyond the superficial escapism that colored the last decade of her interpersonal connections to something pure and true.

Even if it was with a kid.

As far as Kaji knew, Misato never suffered from a shota complex. Though Ikari Shinji did seem to fit the bill in that regard. That boy wouldn't know stubble if it slapped him in the face. Which it never would.

She already had that delightful little albino to play house with, so what was Misato after? Kaji refused to believe the facts she gave him, that this whole little affair was love. Love, true love at least, died for him about the same time he discovered the joyful danger lurking beneath girls' skirts. Sex was the best kind of curse to Kaji. It shattered falsehoods and dissolved illusions. The public, friendly face people wore? Complete bullshit. If you wanted to discover a human being's true nature the quickest way was to sleep with them. The bedroom created a kind of vacuum, a zone that voided the humanitarian efforts of deceit and pretense.

To be sure he had used it as a weapon before, it was hardly anything but, and Kaji always thought Misato understood that. The truth about imagined romance versus real connections with other people. She certainly seemed to understand it back in college.

And suddenly Kaji had to stop his train of thought before it took another wrong turn. He was in a hospital after all. The spy passed the front desk with a wave of his ID, giving the young receptionist a wink without conscious thought.

He didn't know if prodding his old contacts to tell him when Misato would be alone was unethical, immoral, or simply illegal. And he didn't care. He was courteous enough to realize a run in with a former lover was the last thing the kid needed right now.

Kaji reached the room he was searching for, avoiding, and stopped with a sigh.

She looked awful, was his first thought.

Misato was asleep, her pale face framed by frazzled hair and the unsettling white of hospital sheets. Around her bed monitors and machines whirred and beeped, and Kaji found himself thanking God for modern technology for the first time in his life. He always found the more conservative minded humorous, in a tragic way; they bemoaned the steady erosion of traditional morals and values, but if society halted they'd all be looking at an early grave. Progress was not always an ethical process. Good or bad the result was what it was.

But it was best not to get too philosophical. Not right now.

Kaji supposed the same amazing realm of medical technology that salvaged Misato's life was the same world that sent her to the emergency room to begin with. The space between mad scientists and self righteous governments was beginning to blur.

He tried to summon anger, a virtuous hatred to smite those responsible, but all that arose was fatigue. Kaji was tired. He had been submerged in this existence for so long he could almost see the logic in what the JSSDF was trying to prevent. He was tired of risking life and limb for a clueless, self absorbed humanity. He was tired of subterfuge, of lies, of the inherent dishonesty which defined his being. He could no longer remember the wispy lies that used to motivate him, or the genuinely happy moments he used to keep himself living for.

"Women."

Kaji had lied to her before. Their meeting at the bar _was_ an epiphany of sorts for him. And lord knew how much he regretted it now. A moment of weakness, of letting his head lead his head. Following her, knowing full well the emotional state she was in… it was a low blow and he knew it. He had just been so desperate for something _real_. Something that wasn't a deception, that wasn't a complete fraud. In his mind there was only one time, one person he ever felt genuine with. And within that crucible everything else was burned away.

Sometime after she was zipping up her skirt, after she picked her forgotten bra from the wet grey floor, after the brown of her eyes looked everywhere but at him… Kaji finally made himself realize how sad humans were. How pathetic. How wretched. Humans could dress themselves up with noble causes and honorable ambitions but at the end of the day they were all the same. Everyone deceived themselves. That was the only truth. Individuals may make up their own reality in an infinitely varying number of different possible ways, but the overriding fact was that they all lied. To themselves, to their children, their friends, family, lovers, enemies, complete strangers… rank and identity meant nothing. A child arrogantly living out a fantasy, a crazed lunatic bent on punishing the world for a universal hardship, a faltering pinnacle of pride and strength…

… a man who defined himself with the lies he told others…

Everyone lied. And everyone lived by them. For them.

Fuck them.

"Women," Kaji said again, turning to leave.

He wished he had a smoke.

* * *

True Love Sucks

End

Author notes: originally the title True Love Waits was meant as just that: a waffy, ridiculously romantic notion with little basis in reality. Lately, I think of it more as painfully mocking. True love doesn't wait. Not the true love we read about in dime novels (and fanfiction). The classical, idealized sense of love, of becoming complete or realizing an endless happiness doesn't exist. I regret naming the story as such now, but I guess it could also be seen as ironic, regarding the fundamental detachment that exists between people, even the closest of lovers. Or maybe I'm just too jaded. Hope you forgive me for speaking through Kyoko a bit back there. I also hope it gave a little more depth to Asuka.

This was primarily me giving the supporting cast some time, since I removed them from the real finale. That, and to put Hikari through the wringer one last time. I need to think up a story with her as the main character. I know I'm beating a dead horse with the obsession over Shinji, but come on. Teenage crushes are a major thing. And Asuka was sort of insane over Kaji in the series.

Hell Eater. One of my original stories. I couldn't resist. This is as close as I'll ever get to actually writing it. And don't ask for details: you'll be both disgusted and disappointed.

OMAKE? Eh… not this time.


End file.
